Foxface- the Quarter Quell
by nevergone4ever
Summary: Foxface stars in... the Quarter Quell! Sequel to Happy, Loving, Mysterious, Tragic No More. Rated T for the Hunger Games! :-)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One- The Quell

I arrived at the Capitol in a fume of angriness. Parvati, who I had so willingly taken into my own _Victor Village_ home, had betrayed me. She was on the phone (which _I_ had given her) and was blabbing onto my ex-friend about how difficult I was. Well! If she felt that way, she and her little sister could jolly well leave my mansion for their mildewed, gross old hut.

Although I felt that way, there was no kind way to boot 'em outta my home, so I left them. With a security team, hired by yours truly. Now would be the good time to have a family to keep an eye on Parvati…

I was on yet another form of transportation (car) to my hotel, and as I stared out the tinted orange window, I thought a while about Parvati. Sure, she was kind at times, but at most of the others, she was just a gossip. Maybe she just took all this wealth the wrong way… Yes. That must have been it. No other way.

A bit happier, I checked in with Muff and Syria. Muff, the person who drew my name form the Reaping ball, had hair that was now a shocking blond with off-white and dark hot pink streaks. Her outfit was blue shoes that looked like jugs, an extremely short pink and blue dress with SCALES, and huge, dangling earrings shaped like tentacles.

Syria was a bit…. How shall I say this…. TAMER. Her orangey hair with blondish streaks was tied in a ponytail. Her pink pants and matching orange tank top were very revealing, but I could live with that…. I guess, as long as I avoided talking to her. Yuck.

Dinner, in courses of course, was salad with feta cheese, tiny yellow tomatoes, snow peas, and apple cubes, salty mushroom soup, some sort of crusty chicken with many sauces, and finally, a lemon tart with extra sugar on top. It was delicious, but my stomach felt like a pit. Empty. I didn't, though, take any rolls that were offered. For some reason, I was hungry, but not hungry at the same time.

"Want to see your so-called competition?" Muff asked. "Kit, you'll crush them like bugs under your shoe!"

"Um, sure," I responded nervously. "If they're around…"

The first people I met were two nervous, shaky adults named Wiress and Beatee. I liked them immediately. They made me feel at ease. Beatee gave off a grandfatherly impression, and Wiress that of a grandma. I was horrified, though, at the notion of killing them. They seemed so _sweet_.

From seven was a hottie named Finnick Odair. He seemed like the kind of guy I'd want an alliance with. Smooth, collected… a killing machine…

Then there was a girl named Johanna. She played the part of a weakling, but could kill ferociously. Kind of like me. She'd be hard to murder as well. She might (gulp) try to get REVENGE on me…..

Then was a duo called Gloss and Cashmere from some Career district. They looked angry.

There were a bunch of other people too, but those were the main people I noticed. And wanted an alliance with.

The next day, we went to the training center awhile to practice. People were warily sizing me up, seeing as I had just come from my Victory Tour. They thought the kill was fresh in my mind, not rotted down like some of theirs. Mags, for example. Finnick's partner. She was older than my grandma.

I threw around a few heavy spears until my arms got tired, then decided to head over and learn how to rig a snare. I spent three hours learning two different types until lunchtime came.

Lunch was a buffet. I had just squirted some red dressing on my salad when Finnick Odair, in the flesh, came up behind me.

"Tried the buffalo turkey wings, Kit?" he asked smoothly in a monotone. I blushed.

"Oh, no… Are they good?" I asked right back.

"Definitely," he muttered, smiling at me. Then he noticed a fruit cup with fourteen cherries and plopped it on his tray. "The fruit things are good, too."

I nodded and sashayed over to grab a small plate full of BBQ turkey wings, the buffalo ones being long gone. Then I sat down at a table with Syria and Muff.

"I'm very nervous about this Hunger Games," Syria confessed. "I'll have to compete against you, and from what I saw, you're a rather good player."

I forked some turkey into my mouth and nodded. "I really don't wanna be in the Games any more."

Muff scoffed at me. "Not in the Games! How remarkably treacherous! That's completely–"

"Would you wanna be in the Hunger Games, Muff?" I asked angrily. She seemed surprised, so I plodded on. "It's kids killing kids! Horrible stuff, really."

Interviews with Flickerman sucked. He congratulated me, and like a suck-up, I nodded and accepted quietly. The food was good. I tried to put on as much padding as I possibly could in preparation.

That's what happened. But the worst was yet to come; the actual Quarter Quell.


	2. Chapter 2- Let the Quell Begin

Chapter Two- Let The Quell Begin

The Cornucopia. Such a beautiful structure. But not in the Hunger Games. In here, it's a sign of aloofness and mocking. It's tragic, really.

The biome here is snowy. But we all wear parkas, and I can see many hats and gloves and mittens strewn about the horn. Next to me are Johanna and Gloss. There is about fifteen seconds left. I clutch my necklace, my token. I could maybe grab the knife a few yards in, and the black pouch next to it. I'd need a bottle, for sure, unless I wanted to get sick from yellow snow. I'd also need–

The gong rang, and some girl shrieks.

It's all a blur. Some boy is at the Cornucopia, throwing knifes to his allies. They are spreading fast. I dart in, grab the knife and the backpack, and make a run for it. I'd just have to hope that supplies are in the pack.

My ponytail swishes after me as I run through some trees. I glance back and saw that I was being pursued. No! He has a spear and an orange hat on… a hat! I internally smacked myself. I forgot a hat! I'd never survive with frostbite.

My hand tightens around my knife. I run faster. The man, severely overweight, seems to slow and I nod to myself as I scurry behind some maze of boulders.

Three minutes in. I have to keep running. The man decides his best option would to be throw the spear, and he does. It lands in a tree way above my head, though. _Thank you, windiness._ I grin as I keep pushing my legs, however tired they are.

Two more hours of alternating between jogging, running, and climbing makes me tired and thirsty. I dearly hope he's gone in pursuit of some other weakling tribute. I decide to nest in a little cranny high in a boulder, about eighty feet above the ground. It's a cave, protected at the top and about ten feet in, six feet across. You can rock climb up it, but not every tribute would be able to get up. I'm the smallest and the youngest, so I scale it easily.

Keeping an eye out for tributes that may come, I open the pack.

I open a medium-sized water skin, a little iodine bottle, the skinniest red sleeping bag ever, some skinny blue gloves, a package of crispy crackers, a book of matches, a small jug, and a woolen hat. I have virtually everything I need- except the compass that I had a few months ago. I am horrible at directions. I hope my instinct will guide me.

I put on the gloves and hat immediately and snuggle into the sleeping bag. I hear cannon shots– fourteen. Ten left to play. Me, one of them! I smile and think a bit. Let's see. About thirty crackers lay in the package. If I eat ten for dinner, they will not last very long, and I'm no good at knife throwing. I bite my lip.

I decide to leave my stuff here and search for food within a mile radius. I know it's very risky, but I'm already starved. I take my knife and slowly climb down.

I see a squirrel family immediately, playing in some trees. I throw my knife at a fat one, and it hits a branch a foot away. I try a few more times until I feel I'm at least competent with it, then aim carefully at one trying to squeeze into a hole.

I hit it where the sun don't shine. Smiling, I take the bloody squirrel and shove it into my parka's pocket. Next, I aim for a bird that's roosting in its nest. It flies away a couple of times, but then gets too cocky and tries to sleep. Then I get it. It's a fat bird the size of a chicken. I think it's called a groosling.

Satisfied, I take the four eggs from its nest and place them in my parka as well, and finally climb back up my boulder. I throw them onto my sleeping bag (except for the eggs, which I delicately place down) and gather some wood from the ground, keeping an eye out for predators.

I start a fire. It starts out as a little spark made from matches, but grows to be full-blown. I cozy up in the back as I roast my groosling. The squirrel will keep for longer.

After about an hour of waiting and hearing two more cannons, I take the groosling off of the coals. The outside is blackened, like Thresh's birds last Hunger Games. But the inside is juicy and fatty.

Juicy! I need water, Aquafina! I take some melting snow from the very outside of my cliff and cram it inside my water bottle. I add a little iodine and continue eating the groosling.

The sky grows dark, and I keep watch at the foot of my cliff. Both from One, which surprises me. Gloss. The girl from three, a hobbled woman who turned to alcohol. Many more that I can't remember the district names of. Oh, there's the man who tried to follow me.

But, so many Careers! I think as I warm my hands over some dying coals. Maybe the other districts are teaming up and didn't tell me? Perhaps. The thought angers me, though. I just won, people.

Eight more to go. For me, seven more people. Wiress and Beatee, Johanna, Finnick, Cashmere, Mags, and two more. I'm happy that the people I wanted to go through did so, but upset that I may have to kill them. That thought is enough to keep me up most of the night.

When I do go to sleep, I see the lights of dawn peeking over a mountain.

I awaken myself up a few hours later, hearing laughter. Laughter? The Careers are virtually gone. Well, maybe except for Cashmere. But still, not everyone laughs in the arena. To me, this is preposterous. Unless you just outsmarted someone in a humorous way, this is unnecessary.

I peer down the boulder to see Finnick and Mags resting on the bottommost step. I have a knife. I could throw it into Finnick's shoulder-blade and then kill Mags. But something stops me. And I don't mean the golden trident that Finnick's bearing. I mean compassion. If they do die, I don't want it to be at my hand.

"Are you going to catch some more fish today for us, Mags?" Finnick asks her. She nods, showing crooked old teeth.

"Pond," she croaks out, and Finnick nods.

"Of course. You can't exactly go fishing without one of those." Why does Finnick act like this? Not funny or handsome, dumb. He can see my prints in the snow leading up to the boulder. He has eyes, why is he acting so… idiotic?

I help myself to some groosling that I had stored in the jug, then wrinkled my nose. Cold meat. Something I'd have to get used to, I guess. This battle may last for ages. I also helped myself to a couple of crackers and a gulp of water. Tasty to my parched tongue. I watch Finnick and Mags again.

Finnick's pulling something out of a hunter-green sack. "Lunchtime, Mags," he says tiredly. My mouth drools as I see the good stuff. Beef jerky! A jar of pickles! A loaf of fresh bread and butter! They must have cleaned the Cornucopia out. Or at least got a lot of bounty. I remember my pack that I got at my plate last time, and a sharp knife hidden by a bush.

"What a lot of food," I whisper to myself. If I had that much, I'd be stuffed to the brim. And such a small backpack, too! Maybe it had a bunch of secret compartments…

A gust of cold wind sent me back to my den. But up here, I could see many things- the Cornucopia (it was on a plateau), a few tributes starting a fire on a mountain–at least I think it was a few, I couldn't tell. They were so far away– and lastly, the small, antlike figures of Finnick and Mags at the bottom.

I had to wait a few more hours before I could go down, because of the two intruders at the bottom of my cliff. I was trapped. At one point, Johanna's partner from Seven appeared and began hacking at Finnick with a sword, but Mags (surprisingly fast) threw a very sharp spear at him, right in the neck. He struggled for awhile on the ground before dying. Then Mags searched his pack while Finnick staunched his arm wound. I could imagine the girls in the Capitol sobbing over his 'boo-boo'.

"FINNIE! YOUR ARM! YOUR MUSCLED, TANNED, BEAUTIFUL ARM! NOOO!"

"F-F-F-Finnick… Why are you hurt?"

"MOM! CANCEL MY SPA APPOINTMENT! I GOTTA BAWL OVER ODAIR!"

I smirked. Maybe the audience did know that I was up here. Was frightened for me but excited for Finnick. Was it possible to feel completely alone when billions were watching you?


	3. Chapter 3- Million Miles Away From Home

Chapter Three- A Million Miles Away from Home

A/N: Where the heck is Latvia? I got a few views from over there. I LOVE YOU, LATVIA! WOO, HOO! :-D!

A few days after that, the guy from Johanna's district and the girl from Twelve were dead. Those were the two remaining besides Beetee, Wiress, Johanna, Mags, Finnick, Cashmere and I. It was scary. I may actually have to kill somebody, I think.

It was time to come down from my perch. But I clung to it like a baby to its mother. I could die down there, and nobody has figured out my position yet. But somehow I feel that Beetee and Wiress wouldn't kill me, given the chance. Even if I lay near death, begging them to kill me. Beetee won, they tell me, by outsmarting his enemy. His enemy was wounded, so he lured him to a pit of acid. When Beetee jumped over it, the enemy did not, so Beetee won.

Wiress won by stealing the last Career's food, a sixteen-year-old boy from Four. He slowly starved to death, and during that time, Wiress escaped two avalanches, a flood, a pit of snakes, and acid rain. I don't know how she did it, as I wasn't born back then, but somehow she dodged them.

I climb down as fast as I can, pack slung on my back, knife drawn. I pray as I go down that nobody's hiding and waiting for me. Nope. I reach the bottom softly. I really need to hunt for food. I just finished off the crackers last night.

I go to a stream to refresh my water and catch a slow-moving, huge fish. Yum. I place it in my backpack. Must keep going. It's cold, but I breathe on my hands to keep going. Maybe someone, somewhere, is freezing to death. Last night, I discovered my leg was turning a horrible shade of grey-blue. Frostbite. It scared me. I poured hot water on it (a sacrifice), I massaged it, and I tried putting it on hot coals, but nothing worked. It just inflamed it. Oh, the pain I was in.

I'm walking, trying to ease my foot pain by putting pressure on it, when I run into Wiress. Her hair is a mess, she has a stain on her shirt, and she's crying terribly.

"What's wrong?" I ask. I can hear the groans in the Capitol now.

"Beetee–" she starts, swallows, then tries again. "Beetee is ill. Could you help him?"

How did this woman win the Hunger Games?!

Without thinking, I grabbed my knife and slammed it in her neck. She let out a strangled cry and fell to the ground. A cannon shot. The hovercraft would be here soon. I sniffled and dragged my feet as I hobbled along, my bad foot not getting any better.

What happened next was indescribable. All of a sudden, I saw Finnick run out, Mags in his arms. She was bloodied all over, and Johanna and Cashmere were in fast pursuit.

Finnick saw me and shook his head, yelling out, "KIT!" A cannon boomed. Beetee? Mags? Finnick, Cashmere, and Johanna were still alive. It was Mags. Finnick began bawling. Johanna smiled cruelly, and with a lunge she attempted to take of Finnick's head. Cashmere followed suit, but with a stab, Johanna had her knife in the chest. Cashmere's cannon boomed. It was down to us four.

All of a sudden, shockwaves rolled across the plain and we fell down.


End file.
